He's Back and Thinking of Me
by CharryWotter
Summary: A criminal escapes from the New York jail with one goal in mind: to find the detective who put him behind bars and get revenge. Unfortunately, that man is Shawn, and he has been trying to forget anything ever happened. With his old partner's help, will Shawn be able to put aside his issues and help catch the criminal? Or will he end up worse off than before? SEVERE WHUMPAGE
1. Who is Macoby?

Don't worry—for those of you who are reading Just Hanging Around, I'm not giving up on it just yet!

This is just a plot bunny that made its home in my head.

Warning: rated for language and disorder

LOTS OF WHUMPAGE COMING AHEAD…

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Shawn felt so frustrated that he wanted to cry. Everything was so unfair! His dad was out on some fishing weekend, Jules was visiting her family in Hawaii, and Gus was at a pharmaceuticals convention for a whole week!

And Shawn couldn't handle being alone. Without someone there to talk to, Shawn's memories would absorb him and he'd fall into a deep depression.

Luckily, he could still go get a case. "Let's go see what Lassie has in store for today!" As Shawn raced out of Psych to hop on his motorcycle, he shook himself. When he was younger, Henry had told him how wrong it was to talk to himself. Even now, with no one around, Shawn felt the need to keep up the pretense that he wasn't going insane.

 _But the doctors know the truth,_ he thought bitterly. In fact, they'd been the ones to try to get him to talk to a shrink for his nightmares. Instead, Shawn accepted the medicine they proscribed and pretended he was fine.

Unfortunately, the second he was alone, Shawn had to listen to his thoughts. Thoughts he'd been blocking out for seven years now. These were the thoughts that stemmed from the time he had run from Santa Barbara.

Back then, Shawn was whole.

Now he was a mess.

Entering the station, Shawn could see that Lassiter was in Chief Vick's office, talking to…was that Garf? From back in New York?

"I have to go right now." Shawn told himself, ignoring an odd look a passing policeman gave him. "If Garf recognizes me, I'm totally dead. I wonder why he's here anyway."

Turning back towards the door, Shawn lost himself in thought. Garf had been his partner back when he was Head Detective. Now, the young and eager fellow was probably Head Detective. Shawn gulped. He'd left Garf behind after…the incident. No doubt, Garf must be mad.

"Shawn? Is that really you?"

Shawn cursed when he realized that Garf was out of Chief Vick's office, grinning absurdly at him. _Why didn't I leave when I got the chance?_

Lassiter followed Garf out. "You two know each other?" Lassie asked incredulously.

In spite of himself, Shawn grinned. Everything would be fine as long as they left Macoby out of it. "How are you?" he asked his old partner.

Garf's face darkened a shade. "I've been doing better. Macoby's escaped from prison."

Shawn looked wildly around the police station, and Lassiter found it odd to see that the fake psychic seemed to be scared.

"Escaped?" Shawn echoed. He didn't really expect an answer. Memories were swirling around his head, and the police station seemed like it was miles away. Trying to focus, Shawn could see Garf staring worriedly at him. _Pull yourself together._

With an effort, Shawn pressed the memories to the back of his mind where they normally lurked. It was okay. Nothing had happened. "I mean, who's Macoby?" Shawn felt the room pressing in on him.

Garf narrowed his eyes, but didn't press the subject. He knew the reason Shawn had left.

"He sounds pretty evil!" Shawn continued, aware that he was rambling. _But if you tell yourself something enough, it makes it true. I've never heard of a 'Macoby.'_ "The sprits just gave me a strong vision of him! He seems like the type to…" Shawn trailed off, feeling his eyes widen as memories of what Macoby was capable of filtered into his mind.

Suddenly, Macoby was there in the room. Where had the police station gone?

"I've been watching you!" he growled.

Then Macoby reached forward…and took what he wanted from Shawn.

When Shawn felt hands touch his shoulder, he stifled a scream. Macoby didn't like it when Shawn cried out…

"You okay?" The words floated to him from a great distance.

With a jolt, Shawn brought himself back to the present.

Garf was holding Shawn up, keeping him from dropping onto the floor of the police station. "I see you haven't changed at all since you left," Garf remarked with regret. "And what's this about 'spirits'?"

This time, it was Lassie who interjected. "Don't you know? Spencer claims to be a psychic!" The Head Detective was obviously trying to get a rise out of Garf, but he was severely disappointed.

Garf threw his head back and laughed. "So that's the most recent tale! You know, Shawn, you are the only vict—person to get that creative at blocking out Macoby!"

Lassiter confusedly turned to Spencer, whose eyes had narrowed dangerously.

"I do not block anything out!" Shawn ground out. "And I'm not a…" He couldn't bring himself to say it, but Garf got the idea.

His eyes softened. "Shawn, it's fine. I know you're not. Slip of the tongue." Garf glanced nervously at Lassie, who was trying to understand what was going on. "And if you want to tell them you're psychic, or that you have a true love back home, or that you haven't met Macoby, go ahead."

Shawn's anger evaporated. Garf was so sweet sometimes. He stood up, brushing off his old partner's hands. "So what brought you here, then?"

Garf glanced nervously at his old partner in crimestopping. He'd known Shawn for a long time, and was used to Shawn's lies and flashbacks. After all, PTSD was a real condition, and it wasn't Shawn's fault that he couldn't cope. "Well, as you know, Macoby escaped from prison. Word is that he's coming here. He has a specific victim in mind."

Lassiter jumped in, eager to explain to Spencer the police work he was going to get to do. "Word is, the previous Head Detective quit right after catching Macoby, and it's said that he works in Santa Barbara now. Unfortunately, the files on the Head Detective were lost, so no one but people from the NYPD knows who it was. That's why Garf is here."

Seeing the panicked look in Shawn's eyes, Garf corrected Lassiter. "I'm here to catch a criminal. If the Head Detective wants to remain anonymous, I'll stay true to his wishes."

Shawn shot Garf a grateful but confused look. "Did you just say Head Detective? Not previous Head Detective? Aren't you Head Detective by now?"

Garf smiled sheepishly as he shook his head. "The Head Detective's resignation papers were mysteriously misplaced. Until he resubmits them, he still has a job."

"God, why?" Shawn shouted. Everyone in the police station turned to look at him. The fake psychic made no attempt to lower his voice. "Are you telling me I've still been a FUCKING DETECTIVE AFTER EVERYTHING I WENT THROUGH? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY NIGHTS I'VE STAYED UP FEELING MACOBY'S FUCKING HANDS ALL OVER ME? And now you come to tell me that he's back and I'm still in the job? How could you?" The last three words were a whisper.

Feeling like he was a trapped animal in a ring of hunters, Shawn spun around. Suddenly, every police officer had Macoby's face, leering at him. "I've never seen Macoby before in my life!" Shawn tried to convince himself. Turning to Garf, he asked, "Who are you? I've never met you. I was never in New York for any time at all! I don't know what you're talking about!"

Shawn felt claustrophobia build up around him. He quickly ran out of the police station, ignoring Garf's resigned and Lassie's shocked looks. All he wanted to do was forget. Hopping on his bike, Shawn sped far away.

When Shawn left, after a pause, the policemen turned back to their work and Lassiter turned to Garf.

"What the hell was that about?" Lassiter asked the detective from New York.

The blond man nervously flicked his eyes up at the Head Detective from Santa Barbara. In the split second, he made a decision. Shawn obviously was still in denial and needed help. "Shawn is the Head Detective of New York."

Lassiter laughed. "You're trying to tell me that Spencer—the self-proclaimed psychic who never shows up for anything on time—is a detective?"

Garf shook his head slowly. "Not anymore. I mean, officially, he is, but Shawn quit years ago. Macoby managed to capture Shawn and…violated him. And you know about Shawn's eidetic memory…"

"I don't, actually," Lassiter interrupted, the humor gone from his expression.

Garf looked shocked. "Well, Shawn remembers everything he sees. Since Macoby kidnapped him, Shawn hasn't been able to deal with the memories. He refused to see a therapist, and instead, tries to lie to himself that everything's fine."

"So that's what you and Spencer were talking about earlier!"

Garf nodded. "And now, Macoby is after Shawn. I don't think he'll survive this time around."

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What did you think? Good? Bad? PLEASE REVIEW!


	2. Where Can I Hide?

Thank you for all the reviews!

Jen: How is it that your psychic visions always come true? ;P

Psycho4Life: I'm glad you like it :D

TheShulesLovinPsycho: Thanks for the review! A little goes a long way…

X-X-Midnight Star-X-X: Thank you for the encouragement!

zendog: Thank you so much for your amazing words! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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 **Previously**

 _Feeling like he was a trapped animal in a ring of hunters, Shawn spun around. Suddenly, every police officer had Macoby's face, leering at him. "I've never seen Macoby before in my life!" Shawn tried to convince himself. Turning to Garf, he asked, "Who are you? I've never met you. I was never in New York for any time at all! I don't know what you're talking about!"_

 _Shawn felt claustrophobia build up around him. He quickly ran out of the police station, ignoring Garf's resigned and Lassie's shocked looks. All he wanted to do was forget. Hopping on his bike, Shawn sped far away._

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 _It always comes back to this,_ Shawn thought bitterly, taking a swig from the bottle he held that was covered in brown paper. He was sitting on the roof of an abandoned warehouse.

Shawn had first found the private spot after finding a criminal hiding in the warehouse when on a case. Ever since then, when he found himself alone or the memories threatened to take ahold of him, Shawn sat on the roof, ingesting copious amounts of alcohol.

And while alcohol couldn't make him forget, it did a damn good job of blurring his mind and hiding the memories.

 _Always running. Always hiding._ Shawn took another gulp.

It would be so easy to end it all. So easy to take one misplaced step off the roof. Shawn could finally be free.

Of course, he knew that never could happen. Odds were, he'd only break a bone. Then there'd be some serious explaining to do.

And as much as Shawn hated running, he hated explaining even more.

In fact, that was how the whole incident began. After an immense fight with Henry, Shawn had decided everything was too much. So he left.

At first, Shawn had a great time. He tried out jobs, staying for a month or two or even a few days before hopping on his bike and going somewhere new. Thinking back on it, Shawn drunkenly reflected that he had been subconsciously looking for something.

And did he find it? Well, Shawn certainly had found his niche.

He'd first met Garf when he'd singlehandedly brought down a criminal in a small bakery he worked at. The man had tried to take all the money and run, but found his shoelaces tied together and fell onto the ground in a heap.

When Garf arrived, he asked Shawn how he'd known that the man was going to steal. After staring at Garf for a minute, Shawn dumbly said, "It was obvious."

That was the day Shawn had found out that what Henry called "mediocre" was really "genius" to everyone else.

 _And back then,_ Shawn thought, his eyes staring up at the clouds overhead, _I didn't feel the need to come up with…stories._

Since his time in New York, Shawn found himself making up small untruths (they couldn't be lies!) that helped him stay away from all his memories.

 _"I'm not a detective, I'm just psychic."_

 _"Jules is the first person I've been intimate with."_

 _"I had fun traveling."_

 _"There's no way I could ever become a cop."_

Shawn screamed a tortured cry and flung the bottle down to the pavement below. That's what his life had become. That's what Macoby had done to him.

And now, Shawn couldn't even run. Macoby had followed him here, Garf had followed him here. Wherever Shawn tried to turn, there was his past, shouting for his attention.

Shawn's past was swallowing him up.

Now Lassie knew he wasn't psychic. Now the whole police station knew he was nuts. Now Garf knew he wasn't better…

 _"I have to go," Shawn barely choked out._

 _Garf stared at his partner in shock. "But…you're good at what you do. Look what you just accomplished! Macoby's gonna be kept away for life! How can you throw all of that away?"_

 _Garf's innocent eyes made Shawn feel even worse. But he knew that he couldn't stay._

 _"Everything reminds me of him. The police station, my apartment, even the New York streets scream, 'I've been watching you, Shawn!'" And it was true. Macoby continued to hunt Shawn from behind bars. He needed space to think, to breathe, and that required doing what he did best: running away._

 _Garf knew there wasn't much hope, but he couldn't give up on Shawn. "You could get help; we could make this better! You won't have to stay like this!" He reached out and put a comforting hand on Shawn's shoulder._

 _As the hand made contact, Shawn was flooded with fear. "Don't touch me!" he screamed._

 _Backing away, Shawn felt panic rise up inside of him._ I've been waiting for you, waiting for you, waiting for you… _He couldn't get Macoby out of his mind._

 _Somehow, Shawn made it to his motorcycle and jumped on. His backpack was already packed and on there, and Garf had been the last person to say good-bye to._

 _So Shawn sped away._

 _One week later, a very tired Shawn approached a closing drycleaners._

 _"How much do you want for the place?"_

When Shawn came back to reality, he found that it must have been an hour since the flashback started. The sky was dark, and rainclouds were threatening to throw their contents down upon the land.

Shawn laughed; a strange, disjointed sound as cold wind blew stinging raindrops into his face.

As the rain poured down upon him, something else poured down, too.

But Shawn's tears were hidden by all the rain.

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Please review!

I'll try to update this story every day, but I'm also trying to write the sequel to Just Hanging Around, which is called Just Laying Around (check it out :))…So if you don't see a new chapter, I'm very sorry!


	3. When Will Spencer Show Up?

Sorry there's been such a pause! I'm sick :(, but here's a chapter anyway! Yay! Thank you if you reviewed!

Jen: I'm glad you'll still get visions, especially if it means more pineapple smoothies! :D

Psycho4Life: Thanks for that sweet review! I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

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 **Previously**

 _When Shawn came back to reality, he found that it must have been an hour since the flashback started. The sky was dark, and rainclouds were threatening to throw their contents down upon the land._

 _Shawn laughed; a strange, disjointed sound, as cold wind blew stinging raindrops into his face._

 _As the rain poured down upon him, something else poured down, too._

 _But Shawn's tears were hidden by all the rain._

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When Shawn finally drove home on his motorcycle, it was past midnight. _Past midnight?_ Shawn snorted. It was past _four a.m._

And this wasn't unusual for Shawn, either. His small, dark, empty apartment brought back memories of the kidnapping. So if he wasn't unconscious, he wasn't at home.

Usually, nightmares woke him up anyway. So Shawn got around two to four hours of uneasy sleep, and pretended to be lazy whenever Lassie asked why he was still tired at noon when he and Gus entered the station.

Gus, though, had been much harder to dupe. The problem was, Shawn needed Gus, but Shawn needed Gus not to know that he needed him.

At first, Gus had wondered about his friend's sudden clinginess and the way he looked perpetually ill. Shawn's lies did nothing to appease him. Once, however, when Gus had brought it up, something new happened that Gus didn't like at all.

 _"Shawn, what is wrong with you?" Gus turned to his friend across the seats of the blueberry. Shawn tried the door, and found it locked. He was trapped._

 _Shawn's first attempt was to laugh it off. "Buddy, you know there's nothing. Wait, actually, I heard that the good smoothie store's closing! We really need to get down there, even if there's another in town. You know—"_

 _Gus glared at Shawn, easily recognizing the avoidance techniques._

 _"You can't worm your way out of this one, Shawn," he said sternly._

 _Shawn had to push away the memory of the other time someone had said that to him. Back then, he'd been trapped, too, but Macoby had wanted more than information. Shawn's breathing sped up._

 _"I know there's something wrong," Gus continued. "I've been watching you!"_

 _I've been watching you._

 _Suddenly, Shawn was not in the blueberry; he was back in New York._

 _"What are you talking about?" he asked Macoby._

 _Gus tilted his head, confused. Shawn actually seemed to have…changed._

 _"I don't know who you are. I have never met you. That wasn't me you saw earlier," Shawn continued, believing that he was talking to Macoby still. If he could just convince himself, maybe Macoby would believe it and let him go._

 _Gus narrowed his eyes. Something was definitely wrong with his best friend. As Gus went to shake Shawn's shoulders, and knock sense into him, Shawn froze up. He looked ahead with a strange look in his eye._

 _When Gus touched him, it was like Shawn was in a different world. Instead of shaking Gus off or laughing like he normally would, Shawn whimpered and began dry-heaving, still sitting in the car seat._

 _Gus instantly recoiled, knowing he had done something wrong, but Shawn didn't seem to notice._

 _Instead, Shawn drew back his fist and punched through the car window, shattering glass everywhere. As Gus watched, frozen, Shawn—his hands bleeding furiously—jumped out of the car window._

 _The next time Gus saw Shawn, his hands were bandaged and his cheerful mask was back up._

 _Gus didn't dare bring up Shawn's health again._

Shawn tried to tell himself that he'd had a bad day. Lassie had gotten on his nerves, and the window of Gus's car was a way to vent his anger.

But while Shawn may be able to push out whatever had happened in New York, he couldn't shake the raw fear he'd felt in the blueberry.

Luckily, there were no more problems with convincing other people.

Now, Shawn only had to convince himself.

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Lassiter sat at his desk, a cold cup of coffee in his hands and Garf at his side. "We can nail this guy," he muttered to himself for what seemed to be the thousandth time.

And Lassiter really believed they could. After all, Spencer had caught this guy once before, right? So if the guy was targeting Spencer, they'd have an easy way to find him!

Then the case would get wrapped up and Garf would leave forever.

The thought appealed strongly to Lassiter. Already he could tell that Garf was a shorter, blonder version of McNab.

The sooner he caught Macoby, the better.

There was just one small problem. Spencer.

After the outburst from yesterday, he'd disappeared. His apartment was empty, his phone was off, and no one knew where he had ridden off to.

In a fit of desperation, Lassiter had called Guster, who actually had had a similar experience with the fake psychic. "He'll show up in a few days, acting like everything's fine," Gus had reported on the phone. "That's what Shawn does: goes until he breaks, shabbily patches himself up, and reappears with his mask on."

"Let's post a guard," Garf said, startling Lassiter out of his thoughts.

Lassiter raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, if we put someone at Shawn's house, we'll know when he returns home and we'll catch Macoby if he shows up," the NYPD detective offered eagerly.

It actually wasn't a bad idea.

"Good thinking," Lassiter said grudgingly. "Let's do this before someone gets killed."

"Lassie!"

Lassiter turned at the sound. It was coming from Gus, who was running in.

"There's been an accident."

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Like? Dislike? Meh? PLEASE REVIEW!


	4. What Does the Note Mean?

Thank you, Psycho4Life for reviewing! Honestly, you are the best! :D

Sorry that it took so long!

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 **Previously**

 _"Let's post a guard," Garf said, startling Lassiter out of his thoughts._

 _Lassiter raised an eyebrow at him._

 _"Well, if we put someone at Shawn's house, we'll know when he returns home and we'll catch Macoby if he shows up," the NYPD detective offered eagerly._

 _It actually wasn't a bad idea._

 _"Good thinking," Lassiter said grudgingly. "Let's do this before someone gets killed."_

 _"Lassie!"_

 _Lassiter turned at the sound. It was coming from Gus, who was running in._

 _"There's been an accident."_

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"Shawn is gone!" Gus dropped into a chair besides Lassiter, breathing heavily.

"Wasn't he already gone?" asked Lassiter, nonplussed.

Gus shot a stern glance at the detective. "No. This is different. Shawn's been _kidnapped!"_ He slapped a note on the desk.

Garf quickly leaned over to read it. "Not again," he whispered.

"Let me see that." Lassiter snatched the paper up from the desk.

It read:

 _Gus, you've been a great friend and Henry, you've been a great father, but I have to go. I can't stand the thought that Macoby is out there in Santa Barbara, so I'm traveling far away. I'm getting a new phone and identity; there's no way to stay in contact without Macoby finding out. I wish you all the best. Goodbye forever,_

 _Shawn._

"So he ran away," Lassiter said flatly, unimpressed. "Why would you think he's been kidnapped?'

Garf ran a hand through his hair. "This has happened before. Whenever Macoby takes Shawn, he makes sure a story is left behind so no one notices. Last time, Shawn 'quit' the force."

Lassiter looked down at the letter again. "But how do you know that it isn't different this time?" he asked. "Spencer has been acting….stranger."

"I know my best friend," Gus put in. "And I know that he'd rather break my car window than admit that Macoby ever caught him. When you called me about Macoby and Shawn's story, I put together the pieces of why Shawn lied so much. And he would never leave without his motorcycle, which was stashed inside his apartment."

Lassiter blinked slowly at Gus. "Break your car window?"

Gus glared at him. "It's a long story."

"Let's go save Shawn!" Garf said impatiently. "Who knows what Macoby will do this time! By the note, it sounds like Shawn will die!"

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When Shawn woke up, he was definitely not in bed. Instead of being underneath blankets, he was laying on cold stone. And instead of being surrounded by lit lamps that _never_ went off (screw the electricity bill), he was in complete darkness.

Macoby.

Bile rose up in Shawn's throat, but he swallowed it and sat up, feeling as though Macoby was lurking in the darkness. Lurking, waiting, watching.

This was how Macoby did things. That was how in New York…

Shawn stopped the thought right there.

Maybe it wasn't Macoby. Maybe it was some party he passed out at or some dark alley he passed out in. Both had happened before.

But neither had been so damn dark!

As a kid, Shawn had loved the dark. He'd loved the mysteriousness, the freedom to not be seen, everything about the dark had appealed to him. Even as a cop, he'd get a thrill when creeping silently after a killer, with his gun drawn…

But then he had gone undercover. But then his cover was blown. But then Macoby had taken him. But then…

But then Shawn no longer liked the dark.

Shawn didn't like this dark either. He stood up shakily and thrust his hands forward like a zombie, although they shook with fear.

Shawn slowly stepped forward step by step until he reached a stone wall. Feeling the four sides of stone, Shawn deduced that he was in a basement.

Just like before. Just like in New York.

Shaking more violently than before, Shawn stumbled over something hard, bruising his shin. The steps.

Shawn cautiously ascended up to the basement door. He felt around and found the handle, but it was locked.

Putting his ear against the door, Shawn heard nothing but silence.

Suddenly, the door swung open, violently hitting Shawn and throwing him back against the ground.

Shawn's head swam and his vision blurred, but he could still make out the hulking figure that had starred in his nightmares every night.

Macoby.

Macoby growled, but it wasn't an angry growl. It was more of a…purr.

Shawn gulped and scooted himself to the far wall, each movement sending jolts of pain up his arms.

Macoby stood in the doorway watching Shawn move. He then slowly walked down the steps, leaving the door above open so that a tantalizing golden light spilled out into the basement.

And then he spoke.

"I've been watching you!"

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"Where are you taking us?" Lassiter groaned, feeling powerless although he had a gun and was in his own car.

Garf looked over at him from the driver's seat. "There's been a recently bought house with some mysterious signs. First of all, the buyer never toured the house, and offered way more money than the house was going for. Also, he used a bank account under a fake name—I had officers check that out. It's probably Macoby!"

Gus popped his head in between Lassiter and Garf, still looking a little put out from the fact that he was in the back seat of a police car. "That actually sounds really plausible," Gus remarked, looking impatiently ahead. "Are we almost there?"

Lassiter resisted the urge to push Guster's face back into the back seat of the car. "Yes, we're almost there!"

Garf pulled the car into a driveway.

"We're here."

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I will try to update more! Also, I am going back and forth with this story and the other one, so I'll be posting there next! (If you don't know, it's called Just Laying Around and it also features our favorite psychic detective:P)


	5. How is He Dead?

Thanks to Psycho4Life for supporting this story once again! :D

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 **Previously**

 _Macoby growled, but it wasn't an angry growl. It was more of a…purr._

 _Shawn gulped and scooted himself to the far wall, each movement sending jolts of pain up his arms._

 _Macoby stood in the doorway watching Shawn move. He then slowly walked down the steps, leaving the door above open so that a tantalizing golden light spilled out into the basement._

 _And then he spoke._

 _"I've been watching you!"_

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Shawn watched helplessly as Macoby slowly began walking over to him. "How did I find you, you ask?" Macoby asked, chuckling.

Shawn stayed motionless, doing everything he could not to let his memories flood out. He did not care how Macoby had found him. Who even was this man?

"Well, Shawn, the truth is, I've been tracking you since prison. Actually, since before prison, but you know that part!" He laughed a booming laugh.

Shawn did not know that part. He did not know that man.

Macoby continued. "Seeing all your cases solved made me think of the way you tracked me down. And know I know your secret: you're a psychic!"

Shawn bunched up into a tighter ball against the wall.

Macoby then did something very strange. He sat down. Not next to Shawn, not on the steps, but on the far side of the basement. "Run."

Shawn cocked his head in confusion. Would he get more hurt for running?

"Run!" Macoby barked when Shawn didn't respond. "I want to catch you!" He smiled evilly.

Shawn looked at Macoby for a second more, then bolted up the steps like a startled rabbit. Outside the basement, cheery yellow lights were on in each room, although lamps were the only furniture. Shawn ran down a hallway, bursting into a kitchen. He heard Macoby's excited breathing getting closer.

Just as Shawn reached the front door and threw it open, Macoby grabbed him from behind. The touch made Shawn tense up, and he didn't see the confused people in the car watching through the opening.

Macoby dragged Shawn back down to the basement.

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Gus was the first one to break the silence in the car. "That was Shawn, right?"

Garf nodded. "This is good news!"

"Good news?" Lassiter scoffed. "Spencer is obviously being held against his will and you call it good news?"

"No," Garf responded, mildly irritated. "It means that we have a reason to enter the house. Before there was no proof. Now there is. Let's go—" He stopped midsentence as he realized no one was listening.

Gus and Lassiter were already at the front door.

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Shawn couldn't see. Hell, he couldn't breathe. _It's happening again. It's happening again. Oh, God. Oh, no._

Memories of his previous time in captivity with Macoby were racing through Shawn's mind as he was carried down to the basement. And with his superb memory, Shawn could recall every touch, every word, every breath.

He began hyperventilating. It was too much.

Macoby couldn't do…it _again._ Was he really that evil?

Shawn could remember how the case had started. Loads of bodies showing up, raped then killed gruesomely, all worked at the same store. He'd gone undercover, but another worker had identified him and the next thing Shawn knew, he was another…person taken.

Shawn refused to think of himself as a victim.

Shawn had tried to block out most of what had happened to him, but occasionally, snippets passed his barriers and Shawn found himself wishing that he had been killed like all the other people Macoby had taken.

Maybe he still would be killed.

Shawn quickly shook his head to bring himself back to reality.

He wished he hadn't. Macoby was tying rope around his wrists, attaching him to the railing on the steps leading out of the basement.

Shawn tugged his arms, but it was a half-hearted attempt. "Kill me," he whispered to Macoby, who only laughed.

"You wish!" Macoby took on a thoughtful tone. "I was planning to when I first found out you were a detective. But now, now, we have a special bond!"

Macoby's tone sent shivers down Shawn's spine.

The burly man walked over to the fake psychic and began removing the smaller man's shirt, slowly. Shawn closed his eyes. _It's not happening. It's not happening._

Once the shirt was gone, Macoby trailed his hands down Shawn's stomach to his pants.

 _It's not happening. It's not happening._

The belt buckle came undone.

 _Nothing is going to happen. Nothing is going to happen._

But as Macoby went to pull down Shawn's pants, unlike the previous time, a shot rang out in the room.

Macoby crumpled to the floor, the life quickly draining out of him along with his blood.

It was over.

fff

Overall, Lassiter was pretty proud of himself. Never before had his good aim with a gun made him feel so relieved. Sure, it had saved his life plenty of times, but Lassiter lived by the saying: _If it didn't hit you, you've got nothing to worry about. If it did hit you, then you_ really _have nothing to worry about._

But it was different whenever Lassiter used his gun to save a civilian.

And it was super different when that civilian was Spencer, and he was being brutally violated.

As Lassiter confirmed that Macoby was dead, he saw Guster and Garf untying Spencer and handing him his shirt. Spencer looked horrible; his face was white, and he was shaking.

Lassiter had removed the bad guy. But the civilian needed to recover.

fff

Shawn didn't believe any of it. Macoby was dead? But he had been about to…Shawn shook his head.

Gus was talking, but Shawn didn't hear a word. His mind was racing to understand what had happened. Gus laid a hand on his shoulder, and Shawn jumped.

The touch seemed to bring him to reality, however, and the volume of Gus' voice was turned up to normal.

"Shawn, are you okay?" Gus asked with concern.

Shawn waved a hand, intending to reply, "I'm fine."

Instead, he burst out sobbing.

fff

As Gus held his best friend, he wondered how he could never have connected the dots. Maybe this whole situation could've been prevented.

Gus was going to make sure Shawn got help this time.

And the first step was to come to terms with what had previously and recently almost happened. It seemed like Shawn was doing that just fine.

"He…he just took me, Gus," Shawn whispered helplessly, looking up into Gus' eyes.

"You're okay now," Gus replied, keeping a steady arm around Shawn. "Macoby's gone forever."

And Shawn, with his blotchy face and shaky hands, smiled genuinely for the first time since he went to New York. Macoby really was gone. The nightmare was over.

Everything was going to be just fine.

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THE END!

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